


The Queen of Windhelm

by TeriTheTacticalUnicorn



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Loss, Childbirth, Civil War, Companions, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Miscarriage, Modern Girl in Skyrim, Non-Graphic Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, Werewolf Hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeriTheTacticalUnicorn/pseuds/TeriTheTacticalUnicorn
Summary: Plucked from Earth as it's decimated by an Alien invasion, Ashtyn and Rachel Mills, along with Rachel's daughter Charlotte, are transported to Skyrim by Azura.*Trigger Warning*This story has canon elements of kidnapping, rape, and murder and is not for the faint-hearted. If any of these themes bother you, please don't read it (and go off on me in the comments).
Relationships: Delphine/Orgnar (Elder Scrolls), Faendal/Camilla Valerius, Ulfric Stormcloak/Original Female Character(s), Veezara (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Azura's Blessing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HermitWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitWitch/gifts).
  * Inspired by [From the Ashes of My Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141501) by [HermitWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitWitch/pseuds/HermitWitch). 



> I woke up this morning and chose *ALIEN INVASION*
> 
> I Don't own anything associated with Bethesda Softworks. All places, characters, and events (besides my own Original Characters and Headcanon events) belong to Bethesda. This is a work of fiction and I'm not receiving monetary gain from it. Please do not post this work, or any of my works to any other sites, or use any of my original characters without permission.

They say, when telling fantastic stories, that they start on a regular day like any other. Well they're half right. 

Ashtyn Mills was having an odd day, however. A buzz in the back of her skull since waking up to her cat nuzzling into the crook of her arm. She was headed to her tea shop before it happened, the end of the world.

London was as busy as you'd expect on a Tuesday, traffic jams, pouring rain, the usual rubbish people talking on their cell phones and walking into people. 

Rachel stopped her, just like she always did, on her way past the little bookshop next door to the Tea Shop. "Morning, Ashtyn. How's mum?" Rachel asked, leaning on the broom she was using to sweep dirt from under her pink and purple striped awning. She was Ashtyn's twin sister.

"She's good, Ray. Can't remember my name worth the rubbish bin today, but she at least ate breakfast. How's little Charlie? Are her studies improving?" Ashtyn asked, just before a loud crash was heard, making the two women flinch away as a car door flew against the rust and brown bricked building, decapitating four people. "Holy shite! Get inside!"

Inside the bookshop, Charlotte, Rachel's nine year old daughter, was cowering behind the register counter, holding their dog Lucy close to her chest. Screams, muted by the glass and wood that separated the two identical women from the outside chaos followed running people, things she'd never seen chased people with weapons unheard of except in movies and video games. Sirens blared, cars were overturned by large, tentacles machines, and an explosion from across the street made the trio jump out of their skin. In a flash, all of the chaos just… stopped.

When Ashtyn opened her eyes, she sat in an open field, Rachel and Charlotte, still holding tight to Lucy, were still holding onto her as well. "Aunt Ash, where are we?" Charlie asked, but Ashtyn didn't know. She had made a silly wish just before the bright light of a bomb engulfed the bookshop. 

She had wished to be in a safe place with her family. Where bombs and Alien invasions wouldn't happen. Where people didn't rely on cell phones to go about their daily lives. Now she heard a voice in her head and jumped back, landing in a puddle.

_ "Calm, my child. I have heard your please from across space and time and chose to bring you into safety. This place isn't without its hardships, it's strife and hard life. But I think this world will benefit having such a woman in it. I have spared your lives because I find you interesting. How will Nirn treat the Earthlings? How will you fare in such a harsh and unforgiving world? We shall see, because by Azura's blessings, you live. _ "

Ashtyn silently thanked whatever God had just spoken in her head for their lives. 

The temperature dropped at night and was frigid. The houses were of those she imagined medieval farm houses looked like, and Rachel hadn't been above stealing warmer clothes off a drying line to stay warm. 

It was two days before they came upon a settlement called Riverwood. And it didn't take long for them to convince people they had been set upon by bandits and their farm burned to the ground, they had passed quite a few burned down farmhouses. Apparently a war was happening, so their story, though fabricated, was believed. 

Gerdur, the co-owner of the lumber mill, was happy to give Ashtyn work, paying her two Septims each day. Delphine, the owner of the inn they were staying at with gold they had scavenged off of corpses at the burned down farms, had Rachel sweeping and changing linens for six septims a day and Charlie was free to be a kid and play with the other children in the small settlement. 

Azura, Ashtyn learned, was one of Nirn's deities. She was said to have a fascination with the mortal beings of Nirn and had been known to save people if it suited her desires. 

***

A year went by quickly, and Ashtyn, Rachel and Charlotte acclimated fairly quickly to their new way of life. 

There was no air pollution here. No City noise, or the buzz of electricity in the air unless it stormed. No cars eating up fossil fuels, no nuclear reactors or smog. Fresh air and open space. There was war, strife, the fear of hunger and bandits. Alvor was nice enough to sell Ashtyn a bow and Faendal taught her to use it. Rachel had married a man named Lucan Valerius, he owned the General store with his sister. 

Ashtyn became a hunter for the village, bringing in game and much-needed alchemical plants and things. But she didn't want what Rachel had, well not yet. She wanted to explore their new world. Maybe join the Companions and fight some bandits.

Faendal tapped her on the shoulder as she mulled over a mug of Honningbrew Mead at the inn. "Lost in thought, Ash?" He chuckled when she jumped.

"Oi! You can't just sneak up on people, Faendal!" Ashtyn said, trying to calm her racing heart. The Bosmer laughed heartily. 

"Not my fault you didn't hear me, I said your name a few times. You still running into Whiterun in the morning?" He asked as Rachel, with her slightly protruding belly, placed plates of fish and what reminded Ashtyn of mash in front of them. Rachel's red hair had grown out just past her shoulders and she kept it loose, where Ashtyn's crimson curls were braided down her spine with a cord of gold entwined. 

"Just thinking about life before we came to Riverwood a year ago. And yes, I'm still taking the pelts into Whiterun tomorrow, why? Wanna ride in the wagon?" She teased, elbowing him as she giggled. 

"Not the way your horse nips at me. Besides," he started, leaning back in his chair, "Camilla and I have an outing planned." He crossed his legs as Ashtyn smirked. 

"You're incorrigible Faendal. But I'm glad you're going after her. Now if I can get the bard to stop proposing marriage, we'd be golden." He chuckled at this. When Ashtyn and Rachel had rolled into town, Sven had quickly turned his eyes on Ashtyn. In the past year, he had asked for her hand at least a dozen times. He claimed a woman should always have a warm bed to come home to once she, Gerdur and Hod finished building her small, two story home just across from the Sleeping Giant Inn. 

"Well, I will not stop telling you to go and talk to the Companions. Life in one place isn't for you, Ashtyn. You want to be an Adventurer, then go ahead and be one. You don't need Sven to warm your bed, you need to follow the path the Gods have laid in your heart." Faendal said, before finishing off his mug of mead and starting to eat. "Just remember to write to me and Camilla and Rachel." He added after swallowing his food. 

Ashtyn didn't speak as she ate her food. Maybe Faendal was right. Rachel had someone here to look after her and Charlotte. She would have another baby soon enough, and worked hard to earn her own money. Charlotte took lessons in basic survival from Hod and Faendal at Rachel's request and had even learned how to discern plants for potions and plants for food. 

They would be alright. Or so Ashtyn thought right before a Dragon flew overhead the next morning as she loaded her wagon outside of her home. "What the hell!"


	2. Windhelm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After saving a certain Jarl, Ashtyn makes the trek to Windhelm.

Faendal had been helping load Ashtyn's wagon and pulled her down next to it as the dragon flew overhead. "It came from Helgen. Look, smoke." He said, pointing to the plume of smoke off in the distance where the little township of Helgen rested about seven miles away. 

"You told me all of the dragons died a thousand years ago. What in Azura's tits was that, Faendal!" She squealed, rubbing her scraped hands on her breeches. 

"Have _you_ seen any other Dragons? They are all dead. There's got to be an explan-" he was cut off by a couple of men and a tiny woman in Stormcloak armor limping into town.

"Ah shite. Hand me my potions pouch." He tossed her the little pouch of bandages, healing potions and pure alcohol she had Hod distill for washing her hands. 

She, Faendal and Gerdur rushed to the aid of the three. "Gerdur, good to see you cousin." One of the Nords, a blonde man with braids around his face, said as she smacked him upside his head. 

"What do you think yer doin bringin Ulfric Stormcloak here, ya fool!" Gerdur spat in a hush as she watched Ashtyn help the Jarl of Windhelm stand while he clutched his ribs. 

"Not the time, we need to get them off the road in case Imperial soldiers come through after them, Gerdur." Ashtyn said, helping him walk to her house just past Alvor's forge. Gerdur quickly closed the door once the six of them were safely inside. 

"I had nowhere else to bring him, Gerdur. Windhelm is too far in his condition without weapons or horses. My magic is spent just getting this prisoner and Ulfric to safety through the caves." Ralof said, patting the small woman, who couldn't be more than Nineteen, on the back. She cursed talos and laid her little hand axe on the table.

"This is a house, not an armory, get your axe off my table." Ashtyn said as she and Faendal laid Ulfric on her bed. Lifting up his tunic, she could see an arrow protruding from his side. Remembering anatomy 101, she was sure it had missed any vital organs. Fandal handed her the large glass vial of grain alcohol after she pulled her leather vest off and rolled up the loose sleeves. "I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt." She told Faendal and Ralof to hold him down and gave him her belt to bite down on.

Once the steel arrow was out of his side, the Jarl passed out from the pain. Ashtyn wrapped his midsection with clean bandages and cloth with Ralof's help before Gerdur came in with a bucket of water from the river and poured it into the wash basin where Ash washed her hands.

"He'll be in some pain until you can get him to a proper healer, but none of his organs were damaged by the arrow. He'll survive to keep fighting his war. Your cousin is right, Ralof. Though Riverwood supports Jarl Ulfric, the Imperials patrol here as do Whiterun guards. It was stupid to come this close to Imperial territory." Ashtyn stood with a hand on her hip, the girl was passed out on a bedroll upstairs, and Faendal had gone to finish loading her wagon. 

"You don't speak as if you're from Skyrim. From where do you hail, Outlander? You have the look of a nod, but most nords aren't flame-kissed. How did you come to be-" Ralof's questioning was interrupted by Rachel's quick entrance into the house. "She has your face." He noted with questions filling his eyes.

"We're identical twins. We shared a womb at the same time and have identical features. Did you need something, sister?" Ashtyn asked, obviously annoyed by Ralof. 

There's a guard searching your wagon. Looking for _him_." She said, nodding to Ulfric.

Ashtyn stormed out of the house, Gerdur right behind her. "Is there a problem, ser?" She asked, still covered in blood.

Guard Cantroy, as ugly as he is mean, looked her up and down, grimacing. "Surgeon Mills. Just searching for the murderer Ulfric Stormcloak, Mistress. Haven't seen him, have you?" He glared at her coolness towards him.

"Why would Ulfric Stormcloak be in Riverwood? Does Jarl Balgruff pay you to be this daft, or is it a natural talent?" She cocked a red eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "One of the blades of the mill came loose and injured one of the millworkers, Faendal just took the body for burial, you're welcome to check if you don't believe me, Ser." Ashtyn knew she tempted fate, but Ralof would have Ulfric in her hidden cellar by now, and she was covered in blood up to her elbows from trying to dig the arrowhead out of the Jarl. 

"That's quite alright, Mistress. I would expect you to have a pleasant rest of your day." He said before pilfering one of her apples out of her wagon and riding on out of town.

"Arsehole. Come on, finish up loading the wagon. I have a Jarl to return to Windhelm." She said, rolling her eyes, returning into her home as Faendal tossed her bag of surgery tools into the back and covered everything with a large, sewn-together fur covering. The bear hide would keep everything, even a hidden Jarl, dry when it rained. 

"You saved my life and told the guard he was daft. I'm in your debt, Mistress." Jarl Ulfric said, wincing as Ralof sat him back on the bed.

"You owe me nothing but a hefty purse of septims when I deliver you safely back to Windhelm, ye daft tit. We are not friends and you nearly cost my sister her life because I am harboring you three fugitives in my house." She growled, and Ulfric was taken aback by her demeanor. She shooed the woman who had her same face from the house after hugging her and handing her a handful of Septims.

When the sun had set and it was dark, the girl, who Ashtyn learned was a Breton named Beth from Cyrodiil, and Ralof were on their merry way in some of the clothing she kept on hand for her patients. Faendal helped her load the last of her cargo into the wagon, which was the Jarl himself, and handed him a bag of provisions. She wouldn't go to Whiterun after all, but headed Northeast, toward Windhelm.

Two weeks into her journey, they were finally in Stormcloak territory and Ulfric sat on the bench next to Ashtyn, sizing her up. "You're not a soldier." He said, still her womanly curves did something to him. And her red hair was uncommon in Skyrim. 

"Figure that out on yer own? I'm a hunter and a surgeon. I do not heal with magic, because I can't cast it, but Riverwood needed someone and I saved your pretty head, _Jarl._ " She grimaced, he still stared at her thin arms and tiny waist. She couldn't be older than twenty-five, and had said her niece had just turned ten, but her sister had the child young, only ten and six when she gave birth. He contemplated in silence for awhile as the weather turned from rain to snow. 

It was only another three days until she stopped her wagon at the Windhelm stables, Ulfric jolting awake at the sudden stop. "Here you are, Jarl Ulfric. Home sweet igloo." She said, confusing the man further. 

"Are you not staying in Windhelm, Mistress?" He asked as one of his guard helped him from the back of the wagon.

"I will stay for a few weeks and sell what was meant for Whiterun. After that, I don't know. Maybe try my luck in Winterhold or Dawnstar. Hey, maybe I'll even travel to Raven Rock. Ya never know." She shrugged off her blue and silver fur-lined cloak, like the cold didn't affect her. 

"Come to the palace for your evening meal. I owe you quite a bit of coin for saving my life and returning me home." He said, hopefulness in his tone.

She chuckled as he spoke to her like an old friend, "we are not friends, Ulfric. You owe me coin for services rendered after you put my livelihood and family in danger. I'll stay at the inn, thanks." Hearing the unspoken invitation in his voice.

Throughout the day, Ashtyn sold her pelts, the bits and bobs she'd collected on bandit runs around Riverwood that she had no use for. The cloaks Rachel had made from some of the finer and softer furs and a bag of gems, making almost two thousand septims from her sales. As requested, she made her way to the Palace of Kings just before supper and there sat Ulfric, his high and mighty arse on his throne, lounging as if he had nothing better to do. She rolled her eyes and approached him before a beast of a man in bear armor blocked her path to Ulfric.

"Let her pass, Galmar. This is the lass that saved my life." Ulfric said, and the oaf stepped out of her path. "Mistress Mills, I thought I'd have to call out the guard. I believe this will be sufficient for what you have done for me, as well as a home here in Windhelm to be utilized at your leisure." An elderly man, probably his steward, handed her a hefty coin purse, as well as a key and sealed wrappart of parchment with her name beautifully scribed on it and seal the with blue wax bearing the Stormcloak bear from their standards. 

"You give me a home when half your people are begging on the streets. Have you seen the Grey Quarter, Jarl Ulfric? Those people are living in deplorable conditions." She said, before storming out of the palace.

She tore open the parchment once she was in the courtyard,

_Mistress Ashtyn Freyja Mills_

_For services rendered to the Future High King, Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, you are hereby given the title Thane and fifteen thousand septims. You are also gifted a manor and stall in the square to sell your wares. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask._

_Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm_

  
  


Attached was the location of a newly furnished manor, where to hire help, and instructions to stay out of the Grey Quarter. Rolling her eyes, she made her way to the manor across from an obviously empty one that gave her the creeps, and also hugged the walls of the palace. Turning the key, she could smell stew when she entered the warm dwelling. A middle aged, dark elf woman stood over a cooking pot in the middle of the room. "Ah, welcome Mistress! Mind ya, I hadn't been to expectin ya for hours." The woman said, wiping her hands on her apron. 

"It's no trouble, eat your supper. Take the leftovers to feed your family. You and yours will not starve in my employ." She said, laying a hand on the woman's shoulder. 


	3. Brutality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning* This chapter references Rape in the past tense and the aftermath.

"That's her, Stormcloak's whore!" Ashtyn had heard the names, the jabs to her weakening self-esteem. She had steeled herself to them after two months of jeers and nonsense. 

Now she'd been living in Windhelm almost eight months and had gotten a missive from Beth, she wanted Ashtyn to travel with her. How could she say no? 

When Ashtyn was two weeks late meeting Beth in Falkreath, she guessed the woman had gotten lost or just decided not to come. Falkreath was kind of hidden in the forests. That was, until a letter from Ulfric Stormcloak asking if Mistress Mills had arrived safely had the twenty year old huntress on the move towards Windhelm at breakneck speed.

Ashtyn couldn't feel anything anymore. She'd been in this ruin for weeks, close to six or seven if the sunrises and sunsets were accurate through the high windows. 

Why had no one come looking for her? Was no one worried? Hell, she could be lying in a ditch somewhere, dead. Actually, that didn't sound too bad right about now. She was chained to a stone pillar, naked and freezing. The bandits used her at their leisure, taking what they wanted before bloodying up her smart mouth when she spat at one of them or headbutt another. She couldn't hear out of her left ear after an orc hit her over the head when she wouldn't shut up. 

She didn't want to die this way, but she couldn't feel her legs anymore. Her heart beat lazily in her chest and her empty stomach grumbled. They had fed her enough for survival, but she was skin and bones. They were gone now, probably off raiding another innocent person's wagon. She remembered when they torched hers and killed her horse right in front of her. Oh how she fought, stabbing one in the eye with her dagger. Ashtyn let her eyes slip closed and was certain of her fate..

"You can't tell me she's in there. All these weeks right under our noses?" Ulfric and Faendal had dispatched the bandits as they were returning from another raid near Windhelm.

"Her wagon is right down there. I remember it from Riverwood. Her initials in the wood. She's gotta be here." Beth said, her bow in hand as she shouted the doors open.

Ashtyn thought she heard someone calling out to her, but she was so tired. She didn't notice when her hands were released from the shackles above her head, or when she was bundled up in a fur cloak. The warmth felt nice. Was this it, was she dying finally?

When Ashtyn woke, she didn't expect to see Beth's piled of brown curls lying next to her hip, or Njilla's upturned crimson eyes smiling at her from the doorway of a palace suite. She tried to sit up, but hissed in pain, clutching her scalp.

"Mistress, don't try to move. Your skull was fractured, you need to let the potions and magic heal you." Beth said, smiling at Ashtyn. 

That's when Ulfric walked in and she rolled her eyes just to wince again and clutch the side of her head. "If it's not the racist, arrogant and selfish Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. To what do I owe the visit?" She croaked, sarcastically as Njilla handed her a goblet of water and helped prop pillows behind her.

"Miss, it was the Jarl who tracked you to that dwemer ruin and killed the Bandits who took you." Beth said, almost shocked at Ashtyn for such language used towards a Jarl. 

She was in a cotton nightgown but the black and blue bruises on her arms and throat were deep. She coughed and Beth went immediately to help her sit up. "Njilla told me what you do for her family and for all the families of your staff. Scouts-Many-Marshes sings of his employment as your personal fishmonger." Ulfric said as he took Beth's seat and held Ashtyn's hand. "I'm so sorry for what they've done to you, Lady Ashtyn. I should have sent some men with you. My carelessness almost got you killed. You and your household will be housed here in the palace until you fully recover." He gently kissed her hand and returned it to the bed. 

Ashtyn didn't sleep that night. She cried. She could still feel what those monsters had done to her. Every time she closed her eyes, the Nord's face was in her head. She wouldn't let Njilla or Veyn touch her unless they were healing her. 

After a week of vomiting, Ashtyn began to bleed. She knew what it meant: she had been pregnant, but miscarried. Probably due to the fact she hadn't known she was pregnant. She didn't know why it broke her heart to realize she had miscarried her rapists child. It wasn't her fault, or the child's fault She had been used. Maybe that was it. 

If she was still living in twenty-first century earth, where you had hospitals and modern medicine, would she have kept it? She knew her answer as Ulfric and Beth burst into her room and she was hugging her knees to her chest on the bloody bed. She would have loved that child, no matter how it had been created. Her sister taught her that when she had Charlotte. 

"What has happened, is she injured? Let me pass!" Ulfric demanded of Beth, who stood her ground and let Njilla and Veyn into the room.

"Come, I'll tell you what's happening Jarl Ulfric." Veyn said as she exited the chamber and escorted the Jarl to his office.

"So why was there so much blood on her sheets?" Ulfric demanded as Veyn closed the door.

"The Mistress has lost a child. Probably of one of her…" Veyn cleared her throat, "attackers. She told me once that her niece was conceived in a similar way, as my own child was. You think a raped woman who becomes pregnant hates a child conceived thusly?" She asked, watching the wheels turn as he tried to process what the Breton was saying. 

"Why would she want it? It would turn out like it's father." Ulfric scoffed and immediately regretted his words as a gilded bear dagger was at his throat.

Ashtyn stood before him in a clean nightgown, the blanket she had held around her now pooled at her feet, "How fucking  _ DARE _ you!" She seethed. "Children are innocent, Jarl Ulfric. They are not guilty of the crimes their parents commit." Her hand dropped the dagger as she passed out from the blood loss and exertion into Ulfric's arms. 

When Ashtyn woke next, she was in her own bed. Her dagger returned to her night table and steaming rabbit stew sat next to it. She put her face in her hands as the previous night caught up to her. 

What had she done? She had to apologize. 


	4. A Walk Through Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a filler chapter.
> 
> Song: Walked Through Hell by Anson Seabra.

Ashtyn was thankfully only bedridden for a few days as Njilla and Veyn healed her deeper wounds. Even when she was allowed up from her bed, she still had a bad limp from where her hip had been dislocated several times. Veyn concluded that the damage to Ashtyn's pelvis is what made her miscarry her baby. It had been shattered almost completely on the left side. She was now completely healed in the sense that she had no more bruises or broken bones, Veyn even confirmed she would still be able to carry children if she so wished.

Ashtyn preferred not to talk about it as she got dressed for the first time in almost two weeks. A pair of torn breeches, one of her tundra cotton shirts with the tight bodice, but loose sleeves, and a leather vest with boots to match. Njilla braided her hair carefully, not pulling too hard on her scalp. "I'm going to speak to Ulfric. I held a knife to his throat in my grief, I must apologize." she said, looking down at the pink scars on her wrists.

"You do not owe him an apology, Mistress. He has never carried a child under his breast." Veyn said, looking at her toddler son playing with a wooden knight and horse near the hearth. 

"He is to be High King, and I am kind of attached to my bloody head. I will return before Njilla serves dinner." Ashtyn said, sliding the sapphire and diamond gilded bear dagger into the hidden sheath inside her vest. Njilla and Veyn nodded before she pulled her blue cloak from the hook and ducked into the early morning snow. 

Ashtyn was terrified to go anywhere alone. She pulled her fur-lined cloak tight around her and pulled her hood up. According to Scout, her story had already exchanged ears, courtesy of Galmar and his dislike of her and her "loose morals". 

"Jarl Ulfric is not seeing anyone today, Mistress Mills!" A maid tried to stop her, if only she had listened. Ashtyn didn't stop at his closed bedroom door, but walked right in, as she had several times before when he summoned her for supper or to buy something else she had found in her delving. 

"Ulfric, we need to-" Ashtyn stopped when she looked up and saw Ulfric underneath a beautiful redheaded whore from Lady Montgomery's. She didn't understand the hurt that had crossed her face, she didn't like Ulfric. After a moment, she retrieved her cloak from the back of the sofa she normally deposited it on and tuned out his pleas to explain before she slammed the door closed behind her. What was wrong with it? It's not like they were involved, or that they were even friends. 

Nonetheless, she returned to her home without apologizing for her behavior. She was crying again, sitting on the side of her bed. Why was she crying?  _ He's not yours, stop it! _ She chastised herself internally before Azura's melodic voice nearly sent her tumbling from the bed.

_ Oh, but isn't he? Sweet Ashtyn, he has been yours for nearly a year. It is you who refuses to be his because of his status. He has not bedded another in that time, with hope you would come to him.  _

Nope, nah he's a prick. Ashtyn refused Azura her prayer that night. She had prayed for Azura to give her a second chance at motherhood. Her answer was silence. She could pull people from other worlds, but Azura's power was limited. A sudden knock at her front door startled her. She pulled a fur and silk robe over her nightgown and padded softly, still limping, down the stairs. 

"Ashtyn, please be there." Ulfric's voice was frantic. It wasn't as if he could check the stables for her horse and wagon. The house was mostly dark, the servants probably had long gone to bed. But it was Veyn who answered the door almost an hour after his insistent pounding on the door. 

"My Jarl? What brings you at this hour?" The small Breton girl held a sleeping boy in her arms, he must have been what woke her. Not his knocking.

"Is your Mistress here or has she gone?" He asked, guilt wracked him. What had he been thinking, taking a whore into his bed? 

Veyn opened the door wider and disappeared into a room beneath the stairs, returning empty-armed as she ascended the stairs and Ulfric sat at the massive dining table after closing the front door. When Veyn returned to the landing, he quickly stood. "She doesn't wish to see you, Jarl Ulfric. She said she came to you to apologize, but you turned her away." Veyn came back down the stairs, "whatever happened, I think you broke her heart, Jarl Ulfric." 

Ulfric saw himself out, numbly walking back to the palace of kings. He had finally done it. Broken a woman. Was this how his father felt when his mother died in childbirth? Empty? Alone? His chest hurt just thinking of the pain he caused her. 

He had argued with himself that she had told him several times that they weren't even friends. Why would she care who warmed his bed? That just made him feel like the arse she thought him to be. 

Ulfric stayed away. It was weeks before he tried visiting Ashtyn again, "I'm sorry, Jarl Ulfric. She left nearly a month past to visit her sister and join the Companions in Whiterun." Veyn said after he searched her house calling out to her one afternoon. 

He was too late. She was probably on some eventful adventure with the Companions.

  
  



End file.
